


Chasing Memories

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Ab Aeterno [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ab Aeterno, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FSA Week, Immortality, M/M, Nightmares, Reincarnation, Sciles, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lines between the present and the past have blurred, and a former king struggles to find his balance between them, as he finds that not all his demons died with his tormentor. Scott has no idea what the future holds, but with his knight by his side, it seems brighter already.</p><p>A drabble set at the end of Ab Aeterno, a love story across lifetimes and throughout history between two idiot best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Memories

Scott stretched until his spine cracked satisfyingly, groaning as wiggly fingers invaded his space and tried to work their way into all his soft, squishy bits. “Nooooo.” He slurred in complaint, rolling away from the rudest hands ever and back into comfortable sleep.

“You’ve got to wake up.” The super  _annoying_  voice purred into his ear. “The sun’s already up, there’s chores to do.”

The former king sighed and rolled back over, blinking tired and unfocused eyes up at the young man who leaned over him in bed. There were more things about soft palace life that he missed than he expected, a peasant’s day started so much earlier and was so much harder. But there were other benefits that made it all worthwhile and Scott smiled, running a hand through his long tousled hair.

Hard work or no, this was home and he was always willing to help. His Woodsman had pulled him back from a pit of madness where he’d lived for more years than he could remember. It was a blur of burned flesh and pain, dying so many times that he couldn’t tell the difference between death and sleep. The man had given some feral, broken creature a place to stay and carefully coaxed him back towards his humanity. It didn’t hurt that he was beautiful on top of everything. And  _incredibly obnoxious_.

“I’m awake.” Scott protested, fingers stroking the Woodsman’s knees in a thousand unsaid thank yous every time they touched. “I used to have servants for this.”

“Yeah, well I used to have a solid gold horse who pooped emeralds, but things change.” His Woodsman teased, allowing the former king a few extra moments of sleepy bliss as he wiggled down on the bed with Scott. “You should stay in bed, you can’t help me anyways.”

“Huh?” He frowned in confusion before recoiling in fear. The Woodsman’s body erupted in blackening boils, thick swollen tongue lolling grotesquely from his mouth.

“You did this to me.”

Scott could never forget that smell, the pungent, rancid stench of rotting flesh underscored by sharp copper but smothered in the sweet smoke of burning herbs. It made Scott’s stomach clench, bile creeping up his throat as he watched brittle, peeling lips crack into a cruel smile. He held Woody’s hand and couldn’t recognize it. The flesh was deformed and swollen beneath his touch. Woody’s unsteady wheeze echoed through his ears, his dying lungs fighting for air. Woody (Stiles,  _Stiles_ ) was fading in front of him, but it was slow and painful death. The Woodsman wouldn’t let go.

“Please. Please…” Scott tried, but his savior’s grip was like steel. The bruises that bloomed across his wrist were black, spreading the harder Scott fought. 

“I never should have helped you. You cursed us. You cursed us all.” Woody hissed, spitting venom with his forked tongue. There was rosemary hanging above his head. The former king had once promised he’d show him how to make a necklace out of it, back when Woody could still laugh. “I should have let you rot!”

Scott’s hands had trembled when he’d lit the first torch to burn his home to the ground. They trembled now as he tried to pull away, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, and maybe he should have been ashamed of how quick he was to apologize, but he owed Woody his life. He’d never stop owing him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Scott sat bolt upright in bed, memories fading into the darkness of their room. It took him a moment to notice the blinking green numbers on his night stand. A cold sweat had broken out across his brow, his night shirt sticking to his back. The blood racing through his ears was louder than the steady rhythm of his Detective’s breathing, but Stiles slept on unawares.

Scott didn’t have to close his eyes to see that face, with a stronger jaw and higher brow. Woody’s skin had been darker, like his hair, but his  _eyes_ , Scott could still see Stiles in those eyes. Woody had loved him when Scott had nothing to give, and when Scott thought about the sad, tragic way he’d died, he had to bury his face in his hands to hide his tears.

He meant to flee for the bathroom to try and get himself under control, but a heavy hand rested on his hip. Stiles pulled Scott closer before he even opened his eyes.

“Sss’doin’?” Stiles slurred, trying to tuck Scott against his side and go back to sleep. He was too warm and comfortable to move, even if the man beside him was determined to thrash until he woke them both up. Scott’s breath caught, an almost silent shuddering gasp that Stiles knew too well and his eyes blinked open, arms tightening automatically around his partner.

“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.” Scott tried to force his voice to steady, but it was too late. The Detective bullied him in, squishing him flat with concern and a deceptively heavy body. He peered through the darkness of their bedroom, the outline of Scott’s face illuminated by the stray glow of the street lights that managed to slip passed their curtains. A gentle thumb traced along Scott’s cheek and came away wet.

“Are you okay?”

How could Scott answer that? Everything was supposed to be right now. There’d been a thousand years of waiting and loss, but he had his knight in his arms again. It was a fantasy he’d never thought was possible. He had no right to be so sad when he had been given everything he ever wanted. The past shouldn’t matter anymore when the future was so bright, but his Woodsman’s dead eyes flashed through his memories and Scott couldn’t help but cry.

“I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered, ashamed at his loss of control. “Just a bad dream.”

“Hey…” Stiles breathed, kissing his cheek and brushing the sweat damp bangs from his best friend’s face like he’d done so many times before. He remembered these dreams now, the times Scott bolted upright in the middle of the night with a choked cry, strangled by some memory that he couldn’t explain. They’d gotten worse as Scott got older. Stiles knew he’d always been the lucky one who lived each life with a brand new chance and a freedom from his past while Scott had carried it all alone like a chain around his neck. The dead didn’t mourn, only the living had to grieve. “You’re okay, I’m right here, Scott. You’re safe.”

Scott ran his tongue across his lip with a shallow little nod. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Stiles let out a soft, disapproving noise before going back to smothering the life out of his best friend like an over-enthusiastic blanket, and when his king sighed underneath him, he quietly patted himself on the back. “Lights.”

It was Scott’s only warning before their bedroom was bathed in warm yellows. He flinched away from the table lamp automatically, even as he could feel the remnants of his nightmare slipping away. Their home was modest, a far cry from the fortress they once occupied while they ruled this very same island, but the trinkets that decorated the walls were worth more than any gold or precious stone could hope to be. More importantly, their home looked nothing like the Woodsman’s cabin.

Scott had lived many places in his long life. The cabin hadn’t been the best, but it certainly hadn’t been the worst. Yet it had been the first sanctuary Scott ever had after his curse. Theo destroyed his home long before the king had been driven from it. Woody’s cabin was where he’d learned to hope again. Scott didn’t want to forget it, but he didn’t think he had the strength to face it tonight.

Stiles was unshakable, stubborn like he’d always been. He squirmed all over Scott, his hands wandering like they had a mind of their own, pushing and prodding until Scott lost that silly urge to pull away. The only choice he had left was to curl against Stiles’s clavicle. Once gentle fingers found their way to his hair, Scott was a goner.

“I remember what it was like without central cooling. And electricity. You, me, the stars, and no PS4. Not sure how we survived.” Stiles murmured, voice rough from sleep and softened with affection, but his hand settled high on Scott’s shoulder, where skin was smooth and whole. Stiles remembered a lot of things.

Scott couldn’t help but laugh exactly like Stiles hoped he would, relaxing against the other man with a relieved sigh. This was real enough to sweep away the lingering memories and replace them with something gentle and safe. “It was hot and uncomfortable.” He teased, dropping a kiss to his partner’s chest. There were good memories among all the loss and he’d loved those wild years where they ruled this island together. They were feared but respected, maybe even loved by their crew who built their own community in this placed and lived for decades together. They’d become a family over the years.

“You’re hot.” Stiles said, pleased with his ability to flirt even when he was still barely awake and was rewarded with a huff.

“We kept ourselves busy even in the heat and without a playstation.” He pinched the Detective’s side. “I don’t remember ever being that bored, even when we were trapped for weeks here during the rainy season. We found a way to entertain each other.”

“Yeah, lots and lots of sex.”

“Stiles!” Scott laughed again, pulling the soft cotton sheets up higher around them both and momentarily considered smothering his best friend.

“What, like I’m wrong? It was a good way to pass the time.”

“Oh shut up.” Scott propped himself up on his elbow to better look at the other man, smile catching in the dim light. “You’re just so pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“You were pretty pleased with me too, from what I remember.” He curled his fingers around Scott’s jaw and pulled him down into a kiss. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s okay now, my king. It’s  _me_.”

Scott was always knocked breathless when his knight said those words, he’d spent so long wishing for them and dreading them. He inched his hands across the other man’s skin, the ghost of another body and another smile hovering right under his fingertips. “I hurt you so many times. I dragged you through so much because I couldn’t let you go and you suffered for it. I’m sorry.”

Stiles scowled against his partner’s side, before he could work his face into something less disapproving. This was an old argument, one they’d rehashed many, many times before, and one that could end with them screaming across the room at each other. Stiles didn’t want that now. Stiles just wanted to make things better.

“Maybe you did,” he conceded, even though Stiles already felt that  _maybe_  was too unfair. “But you never meant for it to happen. You never wanted it.”

“There were so many times I wished I’d find you, even though…” Scott averted his gaze, brow scrunched up in concentration, and Stiles knew he was trying not to argue as well. The detective clicked his tongue, turning his king towards him to drop a kiss across his forehead.

“Of course you did. I’m awesome.” Stiles said proudly. His thumb pressed into the corner of Scott’s mouth, hoping he could catch a smile. “You’re always so stubborn.” There was so much fondness in his tone, it softened the blow. “I was never happier than when I was with you.”

There were times when that was true. Days or months or sometimes even decades of happiness together before it ended, but it always ended. If Stiles wasn’t taken suddenly and violently, then Scott would have to watch him fade, the young man he’d known growing older without him. They had to lie about what they were just to stay together and sometimes, it was hard for Stiles to hide the bitterness as he aged and Scott remained as young and strong as ever.

The losses each left their mark. Stiles dying from illness, the slow creep of time, the war that had stolen him away before Scott could save him. The cold winter night trapped high on the mountains as their bodies shook and their stomachs twisted with hunger, watching the love of his life slowly freeze to death without being able to save him. The brave and foolish thief who’d screamed for help when Scott couldn’t reach him, hand outstretched and pleading his name, believing that Scott would still have managed to rescue him at the last moment until it was too late. The blind, empty eyes of his best friend that he’d thought he murdered for centuries. Life was better when they were together, but Scott had spent most of his life alone and in mourning, waiting and dreading for the cycle to start again.

“You are awesome.” Scott shifted, rolling them over in their large, expansive bed (worth every penny), and silenced his friend with a kiss. “All of that’s over, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

”It matters.” Stiles first instinct was always to protest. His expression scrunched up, wriggling his nose even if Scott was already so close he could feel it. “You’re allowed to feel bad, Scott. Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s gone. The choices I’d made back then… I’d still make them, knowing what I did today.”

“Stiles.” Scott almost laughed, but it was a strained, unhappy thing. That sounded legitimately terrible. The journey was worth it. Finding Stiles the way he had him now, was worth it, but given the chance, Scott was sure he’d run away with his best friend the moment his knight asked him to.

“Okay. Maybe I wouldn’t.” It was a quiet sort of admission, an apology for his carelessness though Stiles wasn’t in the business of making apologies. His tone softened, soothing though Scott never said he needed to be, gentle like only his king got to see in the middle of the night, when Stiles wasn’t afraid of the toll time had taken on him. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream. Like I’ll just think back and I’ll wonder if I’m not crazy. Other times the memories are so real. So real I’m sure they’re still happening, and I don’t know where I am. Me memory’s very clear. Please believe me when I say I’ve never thought it was your fault when I’ve followed you.”

Stiles’s smile turned wistful and distant, but his grip tightened around Scott’s frame. “I’ve hated you for it. I - I spent a lot of time resenting you. I’ve regretted following you. I’ve blamed you for so much, more than I’m proud of, my king, but wanting to chase you was always my choice, no matter what life we lived, no matter who we were. The time I had was always worth it.

And it’s okay to be sad about the past. You and I are just a couple of ancient relics, don’t you think? Remembering things is what we do.”

“Yeah, practically turning into dust already.” Scott said, settling on the other man’s hips and leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. There had been more than their share of mistakes and regret, it had been a long road to get here. There were so many things Scott wished he could change, but even if there had been so much loss, there had been so much happiness. No matter how he tried to fight it, it had always been the easiest thing to fall in love with his best friend.

Outside, the night was warm and the curtains moved slightly as the ocean breeze found its way through the open window. It was quiet except for the soft hush of the water against the sand, soothing as it always was. The horrors of the past couldn’t touch them in this place. It wasn’t their first haven, but it was the one they returned to. A place where they’d built a home and slowly healed for years, a place that felt safe. This was the place where Theo had shattered everything Scott thought he knew and he had to start over again, it was only fitting that now, when they could both finally go back to the beginning, that this was their first step.

Scott leaned down, resting his face against Stiles’s chest and switched to a soft, musical language that had died out centuries ago. “I’m glad we’re here. I would change so many things, but I grateful for so many too. Thank you for following me, you stupid, stubborn asshole. As hard as it was, I got to spend my life with you and I can’t regret that.”

Stiles ran his hands down his partner’s back with a laugh. “You’re always so romantic, you know just what to say.”

“I could have farted on you if that would help?”

“Awww, I love you too, Scotty.”

Scott dropped a kiss, right over his best friend’s heart, and settled as Stiles pulled their blanket up to his shoulders. The bedside lamp was turned off, and in the dark, they found each other again, hurt but healing and finally safe. Stiles wondered if Scott remembered the first time they’d been like this, lifetimes ago, too silly little boys who weren’t allowed to play with wooden swords. They promised each other forever when they had no idea how long that could be, and Stiles never wanted to let go of his best friend’s hand. Scott’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“I don’t want to watch you die again, Stiles.”

The detective’s hand stilled, resting against Scott’s hip. He couldn’t promise that. There was so much they didn’t know about themselves, and it was terrifying. Scott had been through so much already.

At the knight’s silence, Scott cracked a smile, even if Stiles couldn’t see it. “Do you remember Woody?” He asked at length, feeling Stiles nod against him. “What was his real name?”

“Garth… His name was Garth, and you were the love of his life.”

“Garth.” Scott whispered, tucking his head under Stiles’s chin. “He didn’t have much of a life.”

“Well, he was part Irish anyway. They love the romance in tragedy.” 

Scott laughed despite himself.

Who knew what the curse could do to them now or if they were free? The future was uncertain, but Stiles promised Scott the one thing he could, the one thing that always held true. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right by your side. I’m never going to leave you.” 

It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble takes place after the events in Ab Aeterno and is separate from the main story. It was written as part of the [FuckScerekAnon Week ](http://fuckscerekanon.tumblr.com/)and dedicated to the silly little troll who has targeted this work as well as many others in the Sciles, Scerek, Sceo, and McHalenski parts of the fandom with violent threats and hate. Thanks for the inspiration~<3
> 
> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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